


Burnt

by shyserious



Series: Tentatively [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animalistic Behaviour, Animals, Burnout - Freeform, Cat Ears, Cat Louis, Cat/Human Hybrids, Cats, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Ears, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Boyfriend Louis, Happy Ending, Hybrid Louis, Hybrids, Isolation, Loneliness, Love, M/M, Magical Realism, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, References to Panic Attacks, Sad Harry, Tails, holding down, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 14:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13009938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyserious/pseuds/shyserious
Summary: "Harry was not well.Everything was fine. Nothing was really wrong. But Harry really, really was not well."-Or: Burnout





	Burnt

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is un-beta'd and English is not my first language. / Please do not repost, translate, or add on other sites. / Disclaimer: None of this is real nor does this reflect anything or anyone in real life. -
> 
> (I just finished writing this and will be back tomorrow to read through it and fix mistakes and styling etc. Hopefully nothing is too confusing.)
> 
> Thank you xx

Harry was not well.

Everything was fine. Nothing was really wrong. But Harry really, really was not well.

His room was freezing. The heating was on but sometime earlier in the day Harry hadn’t been able to handle the suffocating stuffiness of the small room anymore and he had managed to sit up on the bed for long enough to crack the window open. It was hours later now and the window remained that way, blowing gusts of icy air inside.

Harry stared at the threads of his sheets, vision blurry and unfocused. He had one pillow almost covering his head, the other one tucked between his back and the duvet he was wrapped into. He hadn’t felt like getting up to find another hoodie or a sweatshirt, so the pillow had been his only option when barricading himself against the cold gushing through the window. Not that he had any clean hoodies. Or clothes in general.

Everything he put on felt uncomfortable and irritating, caging on his body and too tight even if it was his loosest clothes. The unpleasant smell of use, sleep, and old sweat clung on everything, the scent even on Harry’s bedsheets. Or maybe it was just his nose, the odour stuck there to bother him. He had somehow managed to find the energy to wash his beddings the other day, after all. Quite an accomplishment, really.

Harry tried not to linger on the fact that it had been the only productive thing he had done during the whole week. Or maybe it had been longer than that. Two weeks?

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, brows furrowed and a familiar aching tension throbbing behind them. It wasn’t a headache, really. But it wasn’t _not_ a headache, either. It was frustrating, that’s what it was. He felt so uncomfortable, all the time. Not able to relax even when lying in bed, snuggled up and wrapped in the soft duvets. His head ached and he had no energy to exist yet when he slept he slept around the clock, only to wake up to the same tension and throbbing and weariness.

A gust of wind blowed inside the room, ruffling the top of Harry’s hair that was visible from under the pillow. The cross-draught tugged on the door of the room, pulling at it slightly before sucking it back against the frames. The hollow bang of wood against wood was too loud in the silence of the flat.

Harry shivered, curling his fingers tighter into the covers. He pulled his knees up and towards his chest, trying to feel more secure. Smaller. Warmer. The only thing it did was drag the leg of his joggers up as the fabric caught on the sheets. The chilliness of the air tingled cruelly on his exposed calf and ankle.

He didn’t feel like moving again. For a short moment he wondered if he would end up getting sick, laying in the cold like that, but his focus faltered as quickly as it had formed. Didn’t really matter anyway. If he got sick then he would at least have a reason for staying in bed all the time, feeling crappy and useless. Maybe that would be better, even. Like this he just felt guilty, somehow. Like. Harry knew this wasn’t okay. He knew he was supposed to be doing things, going to places, answering messages and chatting to people. Instead he had deleted all the apps from his phone in a burst of bitterness, feeling alone and separated, the only messages he was ever getting being from his mum and sister. He had deleted the apps, turned off his phone, and slept the next fifteen hours.

It wasn’t like anyone would notice he wasn’t posting.

He had made himself text mum before shutting off his phone, typing something about his phone acting funny and the battery dying all the time. Harry wasn’t dumb. Disappearing on his mum would cause way more hassle than he had the energy for right now. He would check in with her again in a bit.

Yeah, soon... When he felt like he could deal with the way the phone screen burnt his blurry vision.                    

Some time, maybe hours later Harry blinked his eyes open, sleep giving way to the exhausting reality of being awake.

He was so tired. It didn’t make any sense. All he did was sleep nowadays.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Harry groaned, voice hoarse and barely there. He twisted to turn to his side, one of the pillows squashing underneath his chest.  

His skin was clammy with sleep-sweat, adding yet another layer of uncomfortableness and irritation on him. He sighed, blinking into the darkness of the room. He should probably try to shower.

But. Yeah, no. Getting up seemed like something insurmountable.

Harry knew it wasn’t. And fuck, if that wasn’t the problem. He knew he shouldn’t even be here, trying to calculate if showering would feel like too much effort. Or if he should just order food because cooking felt stupid. He didn’t even have anything left in his cupboards or in the fridge. And it wasn’t like he was hungry, anyways. He felt a bit sick in his stomach, actually.

Ordering food would mean getting out of bed to open the door, too. Facing other people; a stranger. Facing the real world outside his flat.

Yeah, right.

Maybe there was one of those canned vegetable soups left somewhere on the top shelves of his kitchen. He would check later. Probably.

With a stifled whine Harry stuck an arm out of the sheets, blindly feeling his way to the bedside table. He found the handle and tugged the drawer open, the movement causing whatever mess there was inside to rattle around.

His phone was the first thing his fingers came in contact with, laying right where he had chucked it in the fit of his frustration yesterday. Or the day before? Maybe. Harry hadn’t really been keeping track of the time.

Licking over his dried lips Harry pulled the phone inside the covers with him. He couldn’t be bothered with closing the drawer even though it made his room feel even untidier than it was. Usually something like that would’ve bothered him to no end, niggling at the back of his mind until he got up and fixed whatever it was causing the feeling. Normally he couldn’t go to sleep if the room’s door or the closet doors were even a tiny bit ajar. It was silly, but it was just a thing he had.

It still niggled the back of his mind now, all of the mess in his room did. But instead of making him get up and sort things out, it made him want to curl up and hide. Everything felt like so much effort. The tension was like burnt iron around his lungs.

Harry’s breath stuttered with his next sighing exhale.

The screen of his phone was too bright, the light of it harsh even after he lowered it as much as the settings allowed. Laying on his back Harry rested his head against the pillow. He had one hand pushing his fringe back and up, his palm chilly against his forehead, while with the other he methodically tapped through the password log-in.

It was 10:10AM, apparently, and way over two days longer than he had originally planned on ignoring his phone. Which…

“ _Shit..._ ” Harry mumbled weakly, watching as WhatsApp started to bubble up red notifications, the phone buzzing eagerly against his palm.

Harry swallowed, teeth biting together and jaw clenching with it. He opened the app, eyes tired and chest heavy as skimmed over the chats.    

 **To Mum:** _“Sorry, my charger broke and I only got a new one today._

_Did you decide to go that work dinner you were talking about?”_

Deflect and ignore, Harry could handle that. Although he wasn’t sure how long his mum would buy his shitty, half hearted excuses. She had messaged over ten times, after all. And, well… This wasn’t the first time Harry had turned his phone off during the past weeks.

He just wanted to… _Not_.

It didn’t make any sense but just… No. He didn’t want to deal with anything. Or anyone. Yet he was feeling almost cripplingly alone.

Harry didn’t want to dwell on the word ‘lonely’ because it didn’t sound right with the way he was feeling. If he wanted to be alone and not bothered by anyone, how could he still feel the exact opposite? Shouldn’t it be either one or the other? Like, either you are lonely and crave company, or you’re not that and you just don’t want to deal with other people? Yeah, it didn’t make sense.

For some reason the idea of seeing anyone caused something uncomfortable to swell inside of him. Harry kind of just wanted to hide, ignore everyone and everything, and then… something.

_Something, something, something…_

Whatever that was, Harry didn’t know. He just knew that right now the idea of people–seeing them, hearing them, meeting them–irked him. Just seeing the old conversations listed on his phone caused a vague irritation to simmer underneath his skin.

Somewhere deep down Harry knew he had been worried that maybe no-one would message him at all.

It was stupid because he knew his family would, but that didn’t make him want to turn his phone back on any more. Of course his family would. Anyone else? Not so definitely sure.

Harry knew he was being selfish and–something like _needy_ or _desperate_. Craving attention, or some shit like that. He didn’t really know what the word for the feeling was. Harry didn’t have that many friends, really. He knew people. He had people he had been friends in the past, maybe. But clearly they had got better things and better company to keep over the years, rather than keeping in touch with Harry.

He had tried, honestly. But there’s only so much one sided texting and hangout invitations a person can send before feeling kind of– deflated. If it had been an one time thing with one person, then sure, whatever. But it was always. Again and again.

People were polite and nice when they were hanging out face to face, and sometimes Harry managed to keep up some text conversations for long enough to actually feel hopeful. Nothing ever came out of it. Like... Yeah. People already had their friends, their own things, studies, work, whatevers. _Whatever_.

Harry had kind of figured that he was just too intense, or something. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking that it was something that was wrong with him, and he wasn’t! Harry actually kind of liked his own company, or at least he didn’t find anything too horrible about himself. However, feeling as shitty as he had for the past weeks he couldn’t help but start wondering about it. Like, it must be something _about_ him, right? Maybe he came on too strong; too clingy and too desperate when he hoped to be friends with someone? Or maybe he managed to push people away after the imminent self awareness of his embarrassing eagerness hit him, and he suddenly became distant and quiet. Maybe that. Could be that.

His mum had always said it was because Harry was so handsome and charming, and that people found that combined with intelligence intimidating. Harry had always said that was complete and utter bullshit. Also, it was his mum. She was supposed to say stuff like that.

So, over time Harry had ended up bit bitter, or something. And then again thinking that made him feel so, so ashamed. Because that was selfish and arrogant.

If people didn’t like him they didn’t have to. It wasn’t an obligation or anything, for fuck’s sake.

He couldn’t force people to like him, nor did he want to do that. Still, he felt like shit knowing that it made him upset when he wasn’t _noticed,_ or whatever. Sure, he knew that he had stopped making any effort with people, he was aware of it. It just didn’t feel like worth the pain that came after everything fell flat. And it always did. Maybe Harry just didn’t know how to be a friend. He had never properly learned, after all. Being close with your mum and sister doesn’t really count.

So, what he was left with was this stupid inescapable craving for _connection_ and friends and feeling secure, while at the same time he wanted nothing to do with people, not with his subconscious fear that he would just make an arse out of himself once again. Or something.

Harry just got so annoyed and tense, all the time now, whenever someone bothered him. Like, it wasn’t nice of him, he knew it, and he _was_ a nice person. But… He couldn’t help how he felt. It wasn’t rational. He just… It just felt like no one really cared. Everyone had something better, someone better to choose before even thinking about him.

It was his own fault. He should make more effort; shouldn’t get all bitter and irritated and shit when he _did_ get messaged and talked to. It didn’t make sense.

Also, there went the ‘ _not going to dwell on the loneliness because it clearly doesn’t apply to him_ ’-idea. It was obvious that he was. Lonely, that is. In some weird, twisted and anxious way, that was exactly what he was…

 **From Louis:** “ _If you don’t want to see me anymore you could just tell me rath_ –”

Harry’s heart stuttered as his brain registered the words, cut off by the message preview’s word count, and he rushed to open the chat.

 **From Louis:** “ _If you don’t want to see me anymore you could just tell me rather than leaving me hanging_ ” 

 **From Louis:** “ _This isn’t like you but_ ”

 **From Louis:** “ _really not cool_ ”

“No,” Harry breathed out anxiously, eyes scanning the texts before scrolling up. And up. And up.

There were a lot of new messages there, sent across the few days Harry had decided to, clearly idiotically, shut out the world. Sure he had logged in every now and then but he hadn’t replied to anyone but his mum.  

 **From Louis** : “ _Wanna come over? Boys wanted to watch a movie so we’re getting pizza.”_

 **From Louis** : “ _Harryy. I know you think they don’t like you but I promise they doo! You’re the sweetest and everyone loves you and you should come here with us and have pizza and give me cuddles”_

 **From Louis:** _“Come onnn Haz, just a little movie party to celebrate the end of the semester!!”_

 **From Louis:** _“Ohh that’s right! Yours truly has finally finished with the exams!!”_

 **From Louis:** _“Still can’t believe you’ve been done for two weeks already, lucky lazy you haha”_

 **From Louis:** _“Hazza Haz hazz”_

 **From Louis:** _“Guess you’re not coming :(”_

 **From Louis:** _“Call you tomorrow?”_

Harry scrolled down, heart beating too fast. He really didn’t feel like he had energy to deal with this, yet… It was _Louis._ How could he not have energy for Louis?

Harry’s fingers trembled as he skimmed over the messages.

 **From Louis:** _“Is everything okay? I tried to call but it’s not going through”_

 **From Louis:** _“Anddd you’re not seeing these either”_

 **From Louis:** _“Hope everything is alright love. Text me when you see these please.”_  

The more Harry read the smaller he felt. He deserved it, obviously, but it was just… He had clearly let people down, he had let Louis down. And honestly, Harry wasn’t sure if he could handle– whatever this was going to end up being.

 **From Louis:** _“I’m at your flat but I guess you’re not home?”_

 **From Louis:** _“If you are, would be cool if you opened the door”_

 **From Louis:** _“the neighbour-granny with the dog is looking at me through the curtains...”_

 **From Louis:** _“I guess I should leave before she calls the cops or something”_

 

 **From Louis:** _“Please Haz check your phone”_

 

 **From Louis:** _“Harry, honestly.”_

 **From Louis:** _“I can see you’ve been online”_

And then:

  **From Louis:** “ _if you don’t want to see me anymore you_

 _could just tell me rather than leaving me hanging_ ” 

 **From Louis:** “ _This isn’t like you but_ ”

 **From Louis:** “ _really not cool_ ” 

Harry was a shit person. What was he even doing?

Nothing that was going on inside his head made sense. None of it. He was shutting off the only person that had bothered to pay any attention to him. The only person who wanted to spend time with him and who openly liked him. His _boyfriend_.

 **From Louis:** “ _I’m worried Haz, please answer._ ”

Wasn’t that what his needy, pathetic self had wanted? Attention? Well what was this then?

Was this self-sabotaging? He didn’t really know what else to do. How else to _be_ . He had just needed a break; he had just felt like a bother and like he was boring and just dragging everyone down and... Why did he feel like everything was going wrong even though rationally he knew things had been really well with Louis? Like, _really_ well.   

And now this? This– this _shit_?

Harry tried to remember how to breathe.

He knew he would screw up sooner or later. It had been too good to be true with Louis, anyway. And… Even if there was a way to fix this, to–to just explain… Harry knew he would just mess it up again, later. What good was he for Louis anyway? He couldn’t even care enough to go and shower, for fuck’s sake. Maybe it was better that way.

Harry really didn’t want it to be better that way. It didn’t feel right, didn’t sound right either. But something inside him insisted that it _was_ better.

He didn’t have the energy to fix this, just like he didn’t have the energy to shower, or eat, or close the drawer that was only one reach of an arm away. He just… No.

What could he even say? Nothing made sense and he didn’t want to make anyone feel bad for him. Especially not after he had been so rude, lately. He didn’t deserve their worry. He didn’t want it. Harry just wanted to be left alone.

Exhausted tears pushed against the corners of his eyes, the choked up feeling leaving traces of something burnt and bitter on the forefront of his mind.

He really couldn’t do this right now. Just couldn’t.

Feeling worse than probably ever Harry pressed the side of the phone, fingers shaky and cold. The phone turned off, screen quietly turning black.

With a shaky, wet breath Harry pushed the phone back inside the open drawer and curled up into a defeated, awkward ball. The covers were tight around him, the pillows lumpy and twisted. He pressed his face against the nearest one and let it collect his silent, mortified tears.

*

Harry didn’t feel any better when he woke up the next time. Actually, he probably felt worse.

With a grunt Harry tried to twist to the side, his mess of duvets and pillows feeling too confiding and wrapped around him. Yeah, he definitely felt worse.

Feeling disoriented Harry struggled out from underneath the covers and with that same momentum he somehow managed to force himself up on his knees. With one hand he pushed away his messed fringe and with the other he leaned heavily against the wide window sill at the foot his bed. He reached up, ready to wrap his fingers around the handle of the window to close it, except…

The window was already closed?       

“Harry?”

A startled shock ran through Harry’s whole body and he sat, or _fell_ , down on the bed, his feet ending up awkwardly stuck under his bum.  
“Lou?” Harry asked, twisting towards the direction of the voice. Well, he tried to ask. His voice was nothing but a hoarse croak.

“Why were you opening the window?” Louis, who was standing in the doorway with two mugs in his hands, enquired. His brows were arched, eyes attentive in suspicion. “I just closed it. It was freezing in here.”

“I- I was closing it. I didn’t notice it was… I...” Was this even important? Harry furrowed his brows, dropping his gaze while his shoulders rose up. The sudden fright was leaving his body and _everything_ else was seeping back to the front of his mind. “How did you get in?”

Harry tugged on the duvet and pulled it up, slowly wrapping it around his shoulders. He felt a bit dizzy now, having sat up so fast and then gotten spooked like that. Harry gazed at the misshaped pillows longingly, quietly wondering if he could just… Go back to sleep. Or something.

With a heavy swallow he peeked up, only planning on glancing at the feline-born. That plan was out of the window the second Harry’s brain recognised the expression on Louis’ face.

“I’m fine,” Harry mumbled, defensive and hasty. He tugged the duvet tighter around himself, curling the fabric into tight fists, and then pressed his arms against his chest.  

Louis didn’t say anything but his tail swayed, tantalising and tense yet so agile. His triangular ears were folding back, just slightly for it to be noticeable. This probably wasn’t good…

Harry cleared his throat, then sniffed his nose, just to have something to do. Louis wasn’t moving and the gaze of his eyes was piercing. It was making Harry nervous; more tense. And tense in a different way than he had been feeling before. It was a bit much.

“I’m fine,” Harry’s mouth decided to repeat weakly. After the words had escaped his body tipped to the side, his back towards the feline-born. Harry pulled the duvet over his head, hiding.                 

He wasn’t proud of it. But… Just… Too much.

“Ran into your sis near uni today,” Louis said then, finally. His voice was soft and a bit too obviously nonchalant for Harry not to pick up on it.

He could feel the older boy’s watchful eyes on him, and even though he knew he was completely covered by his nest of blankets, the stare somehow pierced right through him. His shoulders felt tenser. More and more. He just wanted to be left alone, even though… Even though the was suffocating in his loneliness.  

Harry kept quiet.  

“She said you have been dodging her messages?” Hers _too,_ went unsaid. Harry heard Louis carefully set the mugs on the bedside table and soon after the mattress dipped.  

Harry’s brain felt so slow and muggy, the familiar ache was still present behind his eyes and the exhaustion in his muscles wasn’t satisfied with the rest he was getting sleeping and laying on the bed all day. Everything was just _sore_ but not really and nothing was wrong but nothing was fine either. It didn’t make sense!

“She gave me the keys,” Louis said then, breaking a silence that had started to stretch after Harry failed to- do anything, really. “I… I hope that’s fine? I mean. That I came?”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, biting on his bottom lip while he tried to swallow down the burst of emotion that was threatening to push out. He had to say something. No matter how embarrassed he felt being like–whatever _this_ was –he couldn’t stand hearing Louis’ that way. So… Careful and _small_. This was all his fault anyway. None of this was even supposed to be happening but clearly Harry had fucked up somewhere along the way.

“N-no, it’s...” Harry had to pause and try to cover the quiver in his voice by clearing his throat again. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”  

Harry was going to cry, he already felt it. All the pressure was building around his throat, the throbbing behind his eyes growing harsher the longer he tried to hold it off.

There was no way Louis hadn’t heard the thickness of his voice. Or his choppy breaths. Maybe he had seen everything all over Harry’s face before he had even managed to hide under the duvet.  

“ _Love_...” Louis’ worried, crooning voice was pretty much all it took for the tears to spill. It was devastating and Harry felt so, so stupid.

What was he even bawling about? Nothing was wrong!

“Hazza, what is it?” Louis’ tone was so soft, so gentle. If Harry hadn’t been so distracted by the loveliness of it he probably would’ve noticed the way Louis was trying to coax him out from under the covers. With delicate touches the feline-born managed to peel the duvet from covering Harry’s head and face. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“‘m n-not sick,” Harry hiccuped and pushed one hand up to wipe off the tears from his cheeks, the sweater paw ending up damp with it.

When Louis gently tugged on Harry’s shoulder, nudging him to lay on his back, Harry couldn’t meet his eyes. He knew what he would see there.

“Did something happen?” Louis whispered, fingers pushing into Harry’s messed curls and gently pushing them back from where some of the strands had stuck to his damp, tear-tracked temple.

Harry shook his head, swallowing hard to refuse the sobbing breaths his body was trying to produce. Louis’ ears were pinned back now.

“Are you hurt?” was Louis next question. It came out a bit more rushed than his previous words, his voice carrying more worry with every moment Harry was stuck being a fucking failure.

“No, I’m fine, Lou,” he forced out. He was. _He was._

Louis was staring down at him, his tail a clear tense line against Harry’s calf.  
“I don’t…” Louis started only to pause. “You don’t seem fine, love. Are you… Are you su–”

“I’m just–” Harry cut him off, unable to take in any more of the nervous worry Louis’ voice was carrying. “I don’t know, I… I’m fine. I promise, Lou. I just– I’m just feeling a bit...”

“A bit what?” Louis whispered. His palm slid from Harry’s hair to his cheek, gentle thumb sweeping under his eye. Harry knew his skin was almost bruised looking, purple from the lack of– whatever. It couldn’t be the lack of rest because all he did was sleep and it clearly did fuck all.

Harry breath stuttered, the accumulation of desperation feeling like a burnt pile of ashes in his mouth. “I don’t know. Just… Bad. _Tired_.” Harry squeezed his eyes shut, the move causing more tears to leak out. When he opened them again he swallowed, and finally met Louis’ gaze with desperation in his own. “I don’t know, Lou. I don’t– _It’s not going away_.”

His voice turned into a whine, words breaking and crumbling apart in the end. Louis looked like his heart was breaking, and that did nothing to stop the tears.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t– I didn’t mean to not answer to y-your messages, I promise!” Harry hiccuped, releasing his sweater paw in favour of wrapping his fingers around Louis’ wrist. “I was– I didn’t–”

“Hey, shh,” Louis soothed, clearly noticing that Harry was working himself into a panic. “I know, I know. It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

“Is not!” Harry gasped out, eyesight blurry and everything was _wrong_ , not _okay_. Everything was crumbling and out of control and it all felt like it was happening to someone else. “I don’t know why… E-everything is fine, it’s just… It’s not okay.”

Harry wasn’t making any sense and his words were starting to slur as they mixed with his hiccuping breaths.

Suddenly Louis’ palms were on each side of his face, warm and secure and uncaring of the tears.

“Look at me, love,” Louis said, tone dropping lower. It was more commanding, more confident, and Harry clung to it as if it was the only thing clear in the middle of the muddled chaos going on inside him. Why was he freaking out? Everything was fine. He didn’t want this to be such a big deal but now it was and he couldn’t take it back. “Come on, just focus on me, yeah. There we go.”  

“Lou...” Harry’s voice was wobbly but he held the unwavering gaze. Louis’ vertical pupils were thin slits of blackness in the middle of the familiar blue. “‘m s-sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, you’re good,” Louis hummed, fingers soft on Harry’s skin as he gently massaged the tips of them against Harry’s temples. “Breathe, Haz.”

Harry did. Or tried to. More tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

At least his attention was now undividedly on Louis, and not bouncing hectically from one thought to another.

“I’m going to hold you down a bit. Is– Is that okay?” Louis asked, biting down on his bottom lip in a way that left one of his longer canines peeking out. He was looking down at Harry, eyes enquiring and intense. There was wetness clinging on Harry’s lashes, clumping them together. Harry only managed to nod shakily, moving Louis’ hands holding his face with the gesture. “Tell me if you need me to let go.”

With that the feline-born straightened up, palms leaving Harry’s cheeks and finding his wrists instead.

Louis moved to the side and over Harry, kneeling with his legs on both sides of him. Harry blinked up at the older boy, chest still heaving with his irregular breathing, and allowed himself to be moulded into whatever position Louis wanted.

“I knew something was off,” Louis sighed, mostly to himself as he settled down on top of Harry. He was shaking his head, ears still pinned back so tensely it looked sore. 

Harry laid lax as Louis pressed their chests together, the weight of him holding Harry securely against the mattress. His arms were tugged up and over his head, wrists pressed down high enough that Harry felt the subtle stretch of it along his torso. His back tried to arch up a bit but there was no space.

Louis’ thighs were tensed around Harry’s sides, his knees nudging against the fall and rise of Harry’s ribcage. The feline-born wasn’t in any way the heaviest built but somehow he had managed to pin Harry down so well that he felt like he couldn’t do anything but– breathe. Just breathe.

“That’s a good love,” Louis hummed in his ear, their cheeks rubbing together. The scruff on Louis’ face was prickly on Harry’s damp skin but the praise in his words smoothened the feeling into something sweeter.

They laid like that for a long while. Harry’s breathing evened out and the tears started to dry. His skin felt strangely tight, somehow, and the longer they stayed like that something like shame was starting to shimmer underneath.

Harry swallowed, warmth blotching up along his neck and cheeks, adding to the flush that had ruddied his cheeks from all the crying.

Louis’ face was pressed against Harry’s bobbing throat, the skin there sensitive after the feline-born had kept rubbing his cheeks and chin against it. After a while he had finally settled on carefully biting down on where Harry’s neck met his shoulder. He seemed content enough yet his ears were still down, almost hidden in the softness of his hair.

“Lou,” Harry rasped out, blinking his eyes to clear his vision, and watched those said ears twitch in reaction to the sound. “Can I… Hands?”

The pressing hold from his wrists disappeared before Harry even finished the question.

Louis’ chest rumbled, one of those involuntary sounds Harry had learned to recognise. From the way Louis’ canines pressed down just a tad bit tighter on his shoulder Harry guessed that the more _cat_ -side of Louis hadn’t been quite as happy to let go yet. Louis’ fingers curled against Harry’s chest, holding onto the sweatshirt that Harry was pretty sure smelled like sleep-sweat and sadness.

Harry brought his arms up, wrapping one of them around Louis’ shoulders and hugging him close. His other hand he sneaked into Louis’ hair, fingers easily finding one of the folded back ears.

The fur of them was so silky and lovely, and the tension in the tight muscles on the base of the ears caused Harry’s heart to clench. This. This was exactly what he had tried to avoid.

Harry sighed, carefully petting the sensitive ear and trying to unknot the tension there.

“I’m sorry, Lou,” Harry mumbled, instantly feeling the muscles on Louis’ back punch up underneath his palm. He rushed to continue, “I know I worried you, I… I didn’t mean to. I just haven’t been feeling too well.”

The tension slowly seeped out of Louis. A heavy sigh pressed against Harry’s chest and a gust of air tickled where the feline-born was still holding Harry down with his bite.

“It doesn’t make sense...” Harry admitted unsurely after a while, voice coming out thin and breathy. “Nothing’s wrong?” The last part turned out to be more of a question that slipped out. A question that had been circling around in his head for days.

Rationally he knew nothing was wrong. _Nothing_.

Harry was done with exams and the winter holidays had supposed to be the time for him to relax and have fun and hang out with Louis and just– _not this_.

Louis soft rumble vibrated against Harry’s chest again and the hold of the teeth let up, only to be replaced by soft lips. Harry tilted his head to the side, allowing Louis to nose properly against his skin.

The silence stretched between them. Harry’s fingers were curled into the hood of Louis’ hoodie, while with his other hand he kept working on the triangular, stubborn ears that refused to relax. Louis’ tongue was rough on the column of Harry’s throat, but the feeling only lasted for a second before it was covered with some intense and almost aggressive nuzzling. It had something to do with making Harry smell like Louis again. Like _Louis’_.

Harry had asked about it once, which had lead to him being so thoroughly scent marked that he had probably reeked like Louis for weeks. The memory still managed to rise a blush on Harry’s face.  

Louis’ rumble rose again and with a last nip on the hinge of Harry’s jaw he sat up, perched on Harry’s lower belly. Harry’s arms fell from where they had settled around him, clearly failed in the mission to perk the feline ears up again. Harry could barely see them with the way Louis’ hair was ruffled.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Louis asked quietly, causing Harry’s gaze to snap down from his soft looking hair and to his lost looking blue eyes. “I know I was busy finishing my exams but I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t tell me if something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Harry insisted. He held Louis’ searching gaze, watching the way his pupils danced from slits to thicker cuts of blackness. “I swear, nothing’s happened.”

“You’re clearly not fine, Haz,” Louis said softly, fingers splaying on Harry’s chest, eyes sad and worried. He sighed and just quietly watched Harry’s brows furrow further.

“I–I...” Harry licked his lips, trying to make his words to make sense. “I mean, yeah. I’m– I’m not feeling, like, _normal_. But I mean, nothing _real_ has happened that’s bad. You know? I’m just feeling...”

“Just feeling bad?” Louis finished softly, questioningly, when Harry trailed off. Harry drew in a shaky inhale and then nodded, carefully peering up at Louis. “What kind of ‘bad’?”

Harry let the air out of his lungs slowly, going over the things that had been clouding his head the past weeks. He bit the inside of his lip and blinked his gaze down only to lift it back up again. He didn’t really know…

“Tired… And, like, nothing matters and there’s no point, I guess,” Harry answered quietly, voice small. “I know it’s not true,” he added quickly when something in Louis’ eyes shifted. “I mean. There’s like this rational part in my head that’s making sense, and then all these thoughts and feelings come in and completely ignore that. And… I just haven’t felt like doing anything. I don’t have the energy to even get out of this fucking bed and all I have done is sleep and..! I don’t know, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Harry pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, breathing in to calm himself down from the sudden outburst of emotions.

“I was just feeling like I was bothering people and... That’s why I didn’t say anything,” Harry said from behind his hands. “Then I just got so annoyed with _everything_. I don’t even know. I just... I deleted everything on my phone because it was making me feel like shit. And then I… I just felt like shit. _Feel_ like shit.” Harry sniffed, fingers curling under his palms and his knuckles pressing harshly against his forehead. “I turned my phone off because I couldn’t deal with it. I just...” Harry scoffed out a wet, humourless laugh, “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. _Fuck..._ ”   

Louis was quiet for a long time, or at least it felt like a long time to Harry. He did wrap his hands around Harry’s though, tugging them away from his face and down to rest on his own chest.

“I think, maybe… You’ve been working so hard this semester, Haz,” Louis said, clearly thinking over his words carefully before voicing them. He shook his head when Harry opened his mouth to protest. “You _have._ You know you have. You’re literally the first person to show up in the library, every day. You’re in the first name basis with the _night shift janitor_.”

Harry closed his mouth, swallowing. Well, yeah. But...

Harry’s brows pushed tighter together, the throbbing tension still lingering behind them.

“You think I– overworked?” Harry wondered aloud, thoughts speeding up with the new point of view. Louis was looking at him carefully before shrugging.

“I’m not a counsellor, so, I don’t know. But... Maybe,” Louis hummed. He squeezed Harry’s hands, still in fists inside his. “I think there’s a lot of reasons why people might feel bad, or... Depressed.”

“Depressed,” Harry echoed, blinking.

The look in Louis’ eyes was so pained. He kept running his fingers over the knobs of Harry’s knuckles, knees a secure press along Harry’s sides.

“I don’t know, love,” he said quietly. “But there would be nothing wrong with that– Nothing wrong with _you_.”

Harry tried to shrug, kind of dismissively while thoughts whirled inside his mind. Louis squeezed his hands to get his attention.

“I mean it, Harry,” Louis said, eyes stern and serious, pupils blowing wider. “You’re the sweetest boy I know. The _sweetest._ And I absolutely hate knowing that you sometimes think so low of yourself.” Louis shook his head, his tail tapping tensely being him, thumping down against Harry’s legs. He took a breath that was clearly meant to be calming, and his shoulders lost some of their tension. “I wish you didn’t feel bad, love. Ever. If I could take it away somehow, I would, but Haz… Please, try not to shut us all out. I– I can’t help if I can’t reach you.”

“Louis,” Harry breathed out, voice tiny and defeated. He wanted to wrap his hands around the feline-born, looking so upset but with something fierce and decisive in his eyes.

“It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be fine. It’s not going to be like this forever,” Louis said gently, leaning down and pressing a kiss against Harry’s left cheek. His scruff tingled when he asked, “Alright?”

Harry nodded, shakily and turned his head to slide their mouths together instead. Louis kissed him chastely, only for a few moments before turning and resting their cheeks together.  

“There’s things we can do to– to make it easier, I think. To make it _less_ bad.” Louis’ voice was low, thoughtful.    

“We?” Harry sighed, closing his eyes as he focused on the sensation of Louis’ lips pressing along his cheekbone.

The feeling disappeared as Louis pulled back.

Harry blinked his eyes open, jaws slowly slackening from the intensity in the eyes staring down at him. From the mess of Louis’ hair there was now two cat ears pointing up in silent determination.

“Yes,” Louis confirmed, holding Harry’s gaze. “We.”

*

A few weeks later it was the New Year’s Eve, and Harry was feeling slightly better.

It wasn’t magical or anything but– he was _functioning_. He was dealing with it. _They_ were dealing with it.

Harry had received some of his exam results back, and even though he wasn’t completely happy with all the grades he had got, it was like some of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It hadn’t been the end of the world and it felt like some sort of closure. Of course it didn’t solve everything, but… In some way it made things seem clearer in his head.   

Originally Harry had been worried about having Louis’ friends crashing at his flat for the celebrations. He hadn’t been sure if the combination of feeling quite low and feeling nervous about what the other boys thought of him would end up being too much. It was an endless cycle, too. First, he was feeling _not-like-himself_ to begin with; too down and too sad and too slow. Then, he would overanalyse everything he was doing just to end up feeling insecure and choked up.

He wanted the others to have a good time celebrating the new year and the risk that he would somehow manage to drag the atmosphere down was quite high, in his opinion. In Louis’ opinion he was being ‘ _the sweetest, honestly._ ’ The older boy had then managed to poke Harry’s hiding dimple with his tail until it was coaxed out.

Turned out–just like Louis had kept assuring him–that Louis’ friends were more than happy to just lounge all over Harry’s living room, watching movies and eating junk food.

In _Harry_ ’s flat. On the _New Year’s Eve_ . When they could be literally  _anywhere_.   

Louis wouldn’t stop grinning any time their eyes met. He also looked so– _soft_ and warm when he noticed how Harry was getting more and more comfortable chiming in on something the others’ were chatting about.  

Harry knew it wasn’t perfect, the way the inside of his head was, but... He was feeling a lot more optimistic as he sat surrounded by his boyfriend and his maybe, hopefully, future friends. Maybe. Yeah...

Before midnight they all crammed into the tiny balcony that was pushing out from the side of the kitchen.

When Harry and Louis kissed, it wasn’t for the count down or for the fireworks sizzling all over the dark sky. It was to touch their promising smiles together.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to all of you who are dealing or have dealt with difficult times; stress, loneliness, mental health problems, anything. This is especially to those who don't have a _"Louis"_ or the _"Boys"_.
> 
> You're not alone and it will get better. You're lovely and you deserve everything.  
> Please take care. xx
> 
> \- 
> 
> shyshyserious.tumblr.com  
> sshyserious@gmail.com


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